


Until I Wrap Myself Inside Your Arms I Cannot Rest

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Heat Fever, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: A girl in grey on a dying horse. Those were his first thoughts when he reached the top of the Wall and saw the lone traveller approaching Castle Black from the South. Satin had burst into his chambers only minutes before to inform him about it.The Red Woman had ridden the winch cage up with him, already waiting there for him when he arrived. He turned to narrow his eyes at her, taking in the smug look on her face."I told you, didn't I, Jon Snow?" she reminded him, as if she didn't know her words were already on his mind."We'll see," he muttered back.***She nuzzled her face into his neck, the way she'd done only hours before, and inhaled deeply. Her nose was cold as she rubbed it against his skin, but her breath was hot and moist."Sansa," he rasped.She pulled back, blinking at him. "I'm sorry. I must have been dozing off."***She was on the bed, all of her clothes discarded on the floor around her. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, knees pulled up and hands pushed against the wall. She whined as she rolled onto her back, hips arching off the mattress before she turned onto her other side.





	Until I Wrap Myself Inside Your Arms I Cannot Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is fairly close to canon verse, with the exception that the great Houses of Westeros are packs referred to as the Families. I believe we usually think of the people from Planetos as being humans just like us, but for this story, I imagine it works to see them as aliens or people from another dimension who are very similar to us, but are more animalistic, more connected to their inner predator so to speak.
> 
> I'm drawing inspiration from Jon's ASOS and ADWD chapters and using some scenes from Book of the Stranger here.
> 
> Title from Howl by Florence + The Machine, because Flo is my muse.

_A girl in grey on a dying horse._ Those were his first thoughts when he reached the top of the Wall and saw the lone traveller approaching Castle Black from the South. Satin had burst into his chambers only minutes before to inform him about it.

The Red Woman had ridden the winch cage up with him, already waiting there for him when he arrived. He turned to narrow his eyes at her, taking in the smug look on her face.

"I told you, didn't I, Jon Snow?" she reminded him, as if she didn't know her words were already on his mind.

"We'll see," he muttered back.

When he leapt from the cage, the guards had already opened the gates and the girl had dismounted her horse. The beast indeed looked like it was on the doorstep of death. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought and he wondered briefly whether the horse would realize what was happening to him.

He focused his attention on the girl instead. He couldn't tell if her cloak was grey underneath the stains covering it, it might have been blue, but that's indeed how it appeared. She stood too tall and moved too daintily to be Arya.

She turned around and her hood tumbled down, revealing a tangle of chestnut hair and a pale fine-cut face dominated by a pair of large blue eyes. If the eyes hadn't tipped him off, the streaks of auburn cutting through the brown might have. 

He took an involuntary step forward, eyes still glued to her face, clenching and unclenching his sword hand as he stood frozen in the middle of the yard, a muted buzz of murmuring rising up around them.

They moved at the same time and the next moment she was in his arms, warm, soft, frail and still sweet-smelling underneath all the grime. "Sansa," he whispered in disbelief.

"Jon," she sighed into his shoulder. "Brother," she added, nuzzling her face into his neck.  _Not half-brother,_ a part of him registered vaguely.

***

Women were not allowed at the Wall, and if she had been anyone else's sister Sansa would have already been driven away by his Black Brothers. But Jon was their Lord Commander, and though he was fairly certain the men grumbled about it behind his back, they'd never dare to challenge him to his face.

They'd objected loudly and repeatedly about Stannis' decision to leave Melisandre at Castle Black, yet they'd never dare more than mutter a curse under their breath over a tankard of ale now. As much as they leered at the Red Woman, they were also afraid of her, so they swallowed their disgruntlement with a dark look.

And they'd come to tolerate Sansa being there as well, because they feared Jon even more than they feared Melisandre. It was always a precarious balance, the mix of awe, fear and love men felt for their Alpha. It was even more so at the Wall, where the presenting of an Alpha was an uncommon occurrence.

The Families rarely sent their firstborn sons to this remote corner of the world, and on the rare occasion when a second son happened to end up here and presented after taking his vows, a dispensation was usually offered so he could return back home and take up his rightful position at the head of his pack.

Jon was not a firstborn, nor even a second son, he was but a nameless bastard with no pack to return to, the Wall being the only place in the world where he could ever belong, so when he presented shortly after his sixteenth nameday, and when the news of the Old Bear having been killed by his own men had reached Castle Black, he was reluctantly elected as the new Lord Commander.

The Night's Watch would never be a true pack, he'd never have the love of his men, which was practically a given for any other Alpha, but they feared him, as common men feared any other Alpha and that had to be enough.

But now he was no longer alone in the world. He stared at the girl - no, woman - sitting close to him on the settee, barely daring to blink, afraid she might vanish into thin air if he closed his eyes if only for a moment. Her damp hair was closer to red than brown now, but still not as bright as he remembered.

She offered him a shy smile, which didn't even resemble the haughty smirk often followed by a hiss she used to send his way when they were children. Her sweet, warm scent was saturating the room, cloying his mind. He shook his head, trying to rid himself off the odd sensation.

She lowered her eyes, licking her lips before glancing up again. "I spent a lot of time thinking about you lately," she confessed. Her voice was still high and soft like he recalled, but it had acquired a husky trill which sent an odd ripple through his body.

"I was such a stupid girl," she continued. "I am so sorry for the way I used to treat you. Can you forgive me?"

Part of him was surprised, part of him wished she wouldn't remind him of those days, and most of all he didn't know how to respond to her question. "There's nothing to forgive," he managed to croak out.

"There is," she muttered before looking up again. "Forgive me!" she insisted.

Perhaps it was the gleam in her eyes which convinced him, perhaps the lilt in her voice, or the way she arched one eyebrow, but he heard himself saying: "Alright, I forgive you."

She sighed and started to slump against the back of the settee, almost no space left between them. She lowered her head until her cheek was resting on his shoulder.

"You must be tired," he pointed out, turning his face. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils.

"I am," she confirmed, yet neither of them moved. She seemed as loath to retire as he was and he wondered whether she was afraid this might only be a dream as well.

She nuzzled her face into his neck, the way she'd done only hours before, and inhaled deeply. Her nose was cold as she rubbed it against his skin, but her breath was hot and moist. 

"Sansa," he rasped.

She pulled back, blinking at him. "I'm sorry. I must have been dozing off."

***

Sansa spent most of her time concealed inside the King's Tower, but today she seemed to have decided to venture outside. He was discussing grain supplies with Bowen Marsh when he caught a whiff of her scent, his head turning automatically.

She'd washed more of the dark dye out of her hair with lye soap by now, and the weak winter sunlight reflected almost blindingly off her dazzling fiery curls.

More heads turned as she walked across the yard, and Jon's blood started boiling at the sight of hands fidgeting, lips curling and shoulders straightening. 

He muttered a quick apology to Marsh and hurried toward her as swiftly as his boots would carry him. They were all looking, some trying to hide their interest, others leering openly.

Some had the audacity to grin at her or call out a greeting. Jon clenched his sword hand, fingers digging into the leather of his glove as she smiled back politely at each of them.

When he was only a foot away from her, a young steward winked at her and let his eyes roam freely down the length of her body. Jon registered the slight flush appearing on Sansa's cheeks before his entire vision went red and he snarled.

Fury raced through his veins, his limbs shaking as he watched his own fingers curl around the man's throat. He could hear the vague echoes of shouts from somewhere far away, until he saw a hand on his arm. 

He jerked his head in the direction of the person attached to it and met Satin's panicked brown eyes, saw his mouth moving, but didn't hear the words. "You're killing him," his mind finally registered.

He took in the steward's purple face, his hand wrapped around his neck, the man's own hands clawing at his own and lower still struggling feet dangling off the ground. He released him, and he dropped to the ground in a miserable heap.

He turned around, breathing heavily, blood still pounding in his ears and a speck of crimson entered his vision. He blinked, ready to see the look of revulsion in her eyes, her lips pursed in disapproval, but instead her pupils were blown wide and her lips slightly parted. Her tongue darted out to wet them and his eyes followed the swallowing motion of her throat down to her heaving chest.

Another yet different violent wave surged through his body, driving him forward, but before he could decide to act on it or ignore the impulse, she'd whirled around and was darting away from him. He resisted the urge to run after her, grab her by the hair and- 

He shook his head, and stomped off in the opposite direction.  _She's my sister,_ he tried to tell himself.  _I was just trying to protect her._ Yet his hard cock straining against the front of his breeches suggested otherwise.

***

Sansa remained inside for the next couple of days. During the day Jon avoided coming into proximity of the King's Tower, her scent becoming more potent and intoxicating every day. At night however, he couldn't avoid it.

He dreamt of her scent, of his fingers laced through the gleaming strands of her hair, his teeth grazing her skin, his name falling from her lips in broken whimpers. In his dreams he growled "mine, mine, mine" as he drove into her sopping wet yet searing hot cunt.

He woke up each morning drenched in sweat and hued in shame, but it never stopped him from taking himself in hand and spilling his seed with her name on his lips.

He hadn't seen her since the day of the incident, afraid she'd be able to see right through him, but he'd sent Satin up the Tower several times, to bring her food or have him check whether she needed anything else, not trusting any of the other men to visit her in such close quarters. 

There were rules a man needed to follow if he wanted to claim a woman, unless he was an Alpha who'd found his mate, and even then there might be consequences if the Family didn't approve of the match, as had been the case with his aunt Lyanna. Yet Jon was aware that some of these men had been sent here precisely because they'd disobeyed claiming rules.

He tried to dismiss these thoughts as he was poring over a letter he meant to compose, requesting more aid and supplies from the Northern Lords. Suddenly there was an urgent rap on the door.

"Come in," he called out.

Satin entered the room, his brown eyes wide and discomfort written on his face.

"What?" Jon demanded.

"It's the lady, my lord, your- your sister."

 _Are there any other ladies around?_ He pushed himself to his feet, planting his hands on the desk, struggling to remain calm. "What about her?"

The steward's ears appeared flushed. "I believe she's, um, fallen ill, my lord."

He was out of the room before Satin could offer any further explanation. He marched across the yard and climbed the steps of the Tower until he was standing in front of her door. He knocked once and let himself in.

He could smell her before his eyes found her. The room was permeated by her scent, sweet, warm and something spicy underneath, but even more apparent was the sharp tang of her arousal. He felt the blood flowing to his cock in response almost immediately.

She was on the bed, all of her clothes discarded on the floor around her. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, knees pulled up and hands pushed against the wall. She whined as she rolled onto her back, hips arching off the mattress before she turned onto her other side.

Her hair was a tangled mess again, her cheeks, neck and perfect tits flushed, nipples puckered. His eyes followed the dip and curve of her waist and hip, focusing on the thatch of damp auburn curls between her thighs before they travelled down her impossibly long legs.

"Jon," she whimpered, angling her head to rub her temple into the pillow. "Please."

Her hands came down to pinch her nipples, before one slid further down to cover her sex, opening her thighs for him. He could see the insides of them glistening with her slick, the scent of it hitting him again, making his already erect cock twitch with interest.

She squeezed her mound before rolling over onto her hands and knees, offering him a view of her pert round arse and her soaked folds. "Jon," she moaned again. "Please, I'm so empty. It hurts."

She thrust her hips back in an obscene move and a low growl escaped from Jon's throat. He strode over to her, quickly closing the distance between them.

He ran his hands over her hips, cupping and squeezing her arse cheeks. Her skin was blazing hot. He let one hand slip lower, slick immediately coating his fingers. He brought them up to his lips to taste her. He groaned as he sucked her from his digits.

She'd turned around to look. He moved in an instant, covering her body with his own. He lifted her arms over her head, pinning her wrists down with one hand as the other cupped her face. He quickly pulled it back. Her skin was so hot to the touch he couldn't bear to touch it for too long.

Some sense seemed to return to him and he studied her face. Strands of hair were plastered to her damp brow and her eyes were glittering.  _Too bright,_ he thought. She licked her chapped lips before tilting her head back to expose her long white throat to him.

He dipped his head, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up from her collarbone to her chin and his teeth were itching to dig themselves into her soft skin.

'Jon," she sighed.

 _No, no, no._ She was his sister, she was ill, he couldn't do this.

***

Jon was working himself into a frenzy, pacing up and down the length of this office. He'd had Satin send for the Red Woman to examine Sansa. He didn't fully trust her, and he didn't like needing to rely on her like this, but they'd been short a good maester for a while now, so he didn't have any other options.

He'd come within a hair's breadth of claiming his own sister. His guilt over what he'd almost done and his desire to return to her and finish what they'd started were competing inside his mind. He was ashamed to admit that his desire had won out a couple of times, driving him as far as opening the door. Fortunately the icy air hitting him had been enough to bring him back to his senses so far.

From the way she was acting and his own body's response to her, he understood that Sansa was an omega in heat. He just couldn't wrap his head around the how and why. Omegas only went into heat when they came into proximity of their Alpha, and he was the only one around. He should be able to sense the presence of another Alpha.

He sighed, realizing his hand was on the door knob again. He'd had enough, it was taking too long. He was going back, just to find out what was going on, nothing more.

Melisandre was just leaving Sansa's bedroom when Jon arrived. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded to know.

She only stared at him with those eerily red eyes for a while. "It's quite obvious, isn't it, Jon Snow?" she asked, an amused twitch to her lips. "Lady Sansa is in heat and she needs her Alpha to claim her." She arched an eyebrow, tilting her chin in his direction.

"No," he roared. "That's impossible! She's my sister!"

"Only half," she corrected with a smirk.

He slammed her against the wall, a growl building inside his chest. She only chuckled in response.

Being so close to Sansa, being able to smell her had made him hard again and it was clear the Red Woman could tell. She snuck a hand between their bodies to palm him. He jerked back immediately, clenching his fists.

"Pity," she said. "I could offer you at least some release, and you could help me cast a shadow more powerful than any other I've ever made."

"Of course," she added after a short pause, "that wouldn't really help your poor sister in any way."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"The lady is suffering from heat fever. She'll die within the sennight if you don't claim her," she stated without emotion. "So the choice is yours, Jon Snow. Will you fuck your own sister, or will you let her die?" 

She offered him another smirk before walking away. "And, oh," she added, pausing a couple of steps below him. "You'll want to do it properly. You need to claim her and mark her, or all will have been for naught."

***

 _The choice is yours, Jon Snow._ It wasn't much of a choice at all. He wanted it, gods, how he wanted her. And from the way she'd kept whimpering his name, she wanted him as well.

But it was wrong. She was his sister, this wasn't supposed to happen. What would Lord Eddard say? _I only did it to save her life, Father,_ he imagined telling him. Another shocked and revulsed face entered his vision and the voice inside his head said:  _Aye, I fucked your daughter, my lady. She was begging for it. I fucked her and marked her. She's mine now._

Perhaps that was the answer, perhaps his true nature was finally showing through. He was a depraved, lustful bastard who wanted to claim his own sister.

 _Would you bed your own sister?_ another voice asked him.  _Aye, Ygritte, I would._ He clenched and unclenched his fists. This was not the time to be thinking about the only other woman he'd bedded.

He took the couple of steps separating him from Sansa's room and let himself in again.

She was still on the bed, bare back against the cold wall, knees pulled up and wide apart, as she was fucking herself with her fingers. She bit her lip as her head dropped back at the sight of him.

He started undoing the ties of his jerkin, taking it off and dropping it to the floor with a low thud. Sansa eyes flew to his face at the sound and her lips curled into a feral smile. She was off the bed and on her knees before him in moments.

Her deft fingers untied his breeches as he shed his tunic. He'd been hard again the moment he entered her room and he sighed in relief as his erection sprang free.

She cupped his balls and pressed a tender kiss to the tip of his member, sending a shiver up his spine. The sight of Sansa kneeling before him, looking up at him in desperate adoration, her lips and tongue on his cock might have been enough to finish him. If he still had any doubts, he lost them in that moment.

"Please, Jon," she whined. "It hurts."

Her words reminded him this wasn't just about his desires. "Aye, sweet girl," he answered, lacing his fingers through her hair. "Come and get up here."

She obeyed eagerly and he tilted her head back to close his teeth over her throat. His tongue dipped into the hollow between her collarbones and he brought one hand to the small of her back, slipping the other between her thighs. He easily pushed one and then two fingers inside of her and started pumping them in and out of her, closing his eyes with a groan at the wet sounds and her cries filling the room.

When he could feel her growing heavier and weaker in his arms, he walked her back to the bed and lifted her onto it. He pushed his breeches down and kicked them off together with his boots, Sansa already reaching out to him, whimpering over the loss of his touch.

Her thighs were splayed, legs dangling off the bed from the knees down and he finally allowed himself a proper look at her cunt. Her arousal had dripped halfway down to her knees and her nub stood out red and swollen from between her folds.

He couldn't resist diving in to taste her. He lapped at her folds and gently sucked on her nub. Her thighs snapped shut over his ears and her fingers curled into his hair, pulling hard enough to cause pain.

"Jon, please," she cried in a muffled voice. He gave her knees a light push to look up at her face.

She pushed herself further up the bed. "Please, I need..."

He followed, until he was sitting between her thighs and leaned in, bracing himself on one forearm, and closed his lips around her right nipple as his other hand slipped between her folds again.

She yelped and started thrusting against his hand. "Jon, I need more."

Now that he'd come this far, he found himself filled with a sick desire to hear her say it. "Tell me, Sansa, tell me what you want," he hummed into her soft flesh.

"I want your cock, Jon," she confessed.

He wouldn't deny her (or himself) any longer. He positioned himself and pushed in. She felt even better than she had in his dreams. He forced his eyes to stay open so he could watch her face go slack as she sighed at the sensation of him filling her up.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him in even deeper, her fingers clawing at his shoulders. He tried to be gentle, but it was diffcult to hold back. Sansa didn't seem to mind, only begging him for more. It didn't take long before he could feel her walls clenching and fluttering around him, her moans filling his ears. 

He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and bit down hard, piercing her skin until he could taste blood. She cried out his name and a gush of fluid drenched his cock. He fucked her harder and faster, driving her body into the mattress, as his knot started swelling. By that time, he knew he was lost. He wanted this, he wanted her, for the rest of his life.

His release took him hard and unexpectedly. He lazily lapped up the blood he'd drawn and trailed his lips up to her jaw and her mouth, kissing her softly. "You're mine," he murmured against her lips.

"Only yours," she confirmed. He was still tightly locked inside of her, and she bucked her hips, urging him to move again. 

He chuckled. "What is it, sweet, filthy girl? Can't get enough of my cock, can you?"

He slipped a hand between their bodies to rub her clit. "You're mine," he repeated. "And so is that sweet, hot cunt of yours. All mine. You're so tight and wet around me, I want to stay inside you forever. I'm just going to fill you up, again and again. Mine," he growled.

His words and his fingers sent her over the edge again. He unlocked her legs from around his waist and lifted them over his shoulders to fuck her deep and slow.

After his second climax, he flipped them over so she could ride him. She looked glorious, with her messy hair framing her flushed face and her gorgeous tits bouncing along to the movements of her hips.

"Fuck me, Sansa," he encouraged her. "I want to see you peak as you're riding my cock."

Sansa falling apart on his cock was the most lovely sight he'd ever seen. When she lost her rhythm, he grabbed her hips to thrust up into her, howling when he spilled his seed inside of her for the third time.

She collapsed on top of him, nuzzling her face into his neck. His knot was finally shrinking, and his cock started slipping out of her, but they stayed like that for a while longer.

He turned his face to gently nip at her throat. She moved off him to snuggle into his side. Her skin didn't feel as hot anymore.

He pulled up some furs to cover them and pressed a kiss to her hair. They were bonded for life now. With a wolf mark bound to show up on her neck in a couple of hours, they couldn't stay at the Wall for much longer.

"I'm going to take you south," he murmured, but she was already asleep. He closed his eyes as well, slowly drifting off.

When they woke up the next morning, the bite marks on her neck had taken on the shape of a dragon.

 


End file.
